


Every Man Must Depart

by bedegraine



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark!Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-12
Updated: 2011-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-23 16:16:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bedegraine/pseuds/bedegraine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin returns with the same darkness with which he left, and Arthur can feel him from miles off. He can feel the familiar, uncertain fear bubble up inside him as he senses magic all around them, encompassing. But more, he can feel Merlin. Can feel his presence, the way it charges the air around him. Even before he has stepped foot on the battlefield, Arthur feels him.<br/>Merlin returns with the darkness in his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Man Must Depart

Arthur's world returns in the same darkness with which it left. But he's not really Arthur's world anymore, no. At least, not in the way it once was; not in the way that warmed Arthur's heart and mind and sent sparks across his skin.

Merlin returns with the same darkness with which he left, and Arthur can feel him from miles off. He can feel the familiar, uncertain fear bubble up inside him as he senses magic all around them, encompassing. But more, he can feel Merlin. Can feel his presence, the way it charges the air around him. Even before he has stepped foot on the battlefield, Arthur feels him.

Merlin returns with the darkness in his heart.

In his eyes, in his smile. He walks straight through the field, and for a moment Arthur thinks he is the only one who can see the sorcerer. For a moment he thinks he's finally gone mad. But then Merlin stops and raises a fist as Arthur watches, strangely disconnected from the world around him, because this is Merlin. After so long, this is Merlin who raises his face to the sky, exposing long stretches of neck, and this is Merlin who chants, rhythmic words in a twisted tongue, almost a lullaby. This is Merlin who lowers his hands and grins manically as the sky above him mirrors the black of his cloak, then opens and licks out with tongues made of fire and ice, tasting Arthur's army.

Arthur watches as his own men fall around Merlin. He watches Merlin turn slowly, once, in a circle before stopping. And then he meets Merlin's eyes.  
They are the same shade of blue they always were, startling in intensity. But in them, Arthur sees not the carefree friendship he had, so long ago. He sees not the empathy and love and compassion that had woven together to make the fabric of Merlin's soul. No, in them he sees only the dark despised coldness that Merlin carried now. The coldness that had stolen the truest friend Arthur'd ever had.

He could blame himself, if he were to blame anyone, for the strange unlikeness of the man who crossed towards him now compared to the man who'd stood by his side for so long. He could blame his own carelessness, his own selfishness. His own decisions. He has blamed himself, in the deepest part of his heart, for years.

As Merlin walks towards him, he cannot feel fear or hatred or remorse. He cannot muster within himself the loathing he knows he should. This is a foe, a foe who'd just killed Arthur's loyalest men, his people. He can’t seem to care. Lancelot and Gwaine lay dead in the fields behind him, his castle in tatters and ruins behind that, but he can't seem to care. And here is Merlin.

The years have aged him. He is leaner and, if possible, more angular than he ever was when Arthur knew him. He walks with a swag to his step Arthur had never seen in him, arrogance mixed with power. And it is dangerous, how little Arthur fears him. It's Merlin, his brain keeps telling him. And though he knows that it doesn’t mean what it once did, it still sends soothing chills through his limbs to his toes. He still feels comforted by the name, he still wants to believe everything will be alright, now that Merlin is there. Because Merlin was always there to help, always there for Arthur.

He's here for Arthur, now, but he's not here to help. Once he is within earshot, he stops. Vaguely, Arthur realizes that they are the last on the field, surrounded by the dead, in the dead of night. He supposes he should be terrified, but warmth has begun spreading over his skin traitorously. Merlin stands before him, stock still, and says nothing. Arthur wonders if he'll speak before he finishes his task. Wonders if he has a last speech to deliver to Arthur before wiping him away for good. Wonders if Merlin ever misses him, or doubts the path he'd taken.

But they'd chosen their sides, and there was no amount of doubt now that could take them back. And so here they are, when Merlin opens his mouth to speak and Arthur inhales and tries to square his shoulders and appear brave. But Merlin’s words are not an enchantment or spell, but rather something completely familiar.

"Arthur."

And Arthur doesn't want to shiver at how many memories flash through his mind in that second, how many joyous afternoons, peaceful evenings, sombre conversations. Doesn’t want to shiver, but he does, because his name in Merlin's mouth is something he'd never managed to forget or stop wanting.

"Merlin."

He imagines that Merlin's eyes flutter shut for the briefest of seconds before levelling his gaze once more. He tries to find something he recognizes in those eyes, tries desperately even as he knows there's no hope. He has to try, because he remembers. He remembers what they look like full of emotion and tears, remember what it sounds like when Merlin mutters in his sleep or moans from the back of his throat, hot and guttural. He remembers the soft paleness of Merlin's skin, the sharp edges of his hips and the taste of his thighs. He remembers, and he looks for anything that tells him Merlin does too.

He finds nothing.

And when Merlin starts speaking again, it's with an indifference and edge that Arthur doesn't remember at all. "I was once told that we would unite Albion together," he states. There is almost something like pain, lacing that indifference. "I was told we were two sides of the same coin. Two halves of a whole."

Arthur should be shocked. He's not.

"I tried to live that destiny for a long time, I did. But Morgana was right. There is no other way."

Now the reality is starting to sink in. Arthur looks at Merlin and wonders if he could speak if he tried. He wants to say something, doesn't want to die without a last word, a last confession. Anything. Merlin seems to wait, and for a split second Arthur feels it, that destiny. Feels the air between them as though they are connected. It makes his heart ache in his chest, sends shoots of pain from his fingertips to his lungs. It is the most sorrowful thing he's ever experienced, and it lasts an eternity in that second. When it's over there is Merlin, raising his palm again, and all Arthur can feel is flooding relief. An end, finally. A close to all that was left open, an answer to all of the questions he'd been driving himself to the brink of insanity with for almost a decade.

Merlin doesn't look into his eyes as he recites the spell, perhaps his only sign of remorse. And only a sign to Arthur because he remembers the shady untruths Merlin told as he looked anywhere but Arthur. It brings the king a small comfort, right at the end, thinking that maybe it was all a lie to Merlin, as well.

But this is not a lie, and when the bolt comes it’s searing, burning so hot it’s almost painless. Drawn out over what must be centuries, Arthur thinks. He wonders about destiny, then, and where exactly his went wrong. Why he had to grow old in absence of the one he loved, fearing and hating him, instead of by his side. Wonders who decided these things, and supposes he will find out soon enough. Destinies, he thinks, are troublesome things. And as he falls, he looks one last time to Merlin and meets his gaze, smiling. Before the darkness clouds his vision and swallows him, he is almost sure that he sees a tear slip from between Merlin's dark eyelashes.

**Author's Note:**

> *The title is a excerpt from a quote by John Ashbery


End file.
